


Alive

by Jet44



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Love, Men Crying, Neal's alive, Reunions, back from the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jet44/pseuds/Jet44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU to the series finale - Neal comes back to Peter not long after faking his death. One-shot of the reunion I needed them to have sooner rather than later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive

“Neal. Neal. Oh, Neal.” He sobbed, and tears rushed from his eyes, liquid and warm and unstoppable. “Neal. Neal.”

He crushed Neal against his body with his arms so that he could feel his heartbeat, the warmth of him alive. So that he could smell him, and feel him. He didn’t give a damn what Neal thought or felt about it.

He buried his face in the crook of Neal’s neck where it joined the shoulder, and sobbed. So hard he could feel his chest tremble. “Neal, I’ve missed you.”

Neal rested his own head on Peter’s shoulder, with the air of a man home at last. How could eyes produce so many tears, so fast?

This held all of the overwhelming grief of his loss, and the wrenching happiness that came with weddings and miracles. Little relief, little celebration. It was too serious for those trivial feelings.

“You little bastard Neal. I - see you at your desk and sneak into the bathroom to cry. We decided to name the baby Neal, and I cry every time I feel him kick in El’s belly --”

The tears were hot, but traced large, cool, wet rivers down his face. He wasn’t even sobbing right now, but still producing enough tears to water a small house plant and crushing Neal to his chest.

“I feel him kick, and wonder if reincarnation could possibly, maybe, please be possible. And then I start crying and beg a God I don’t believe in, a God who let you die, to let that be you so I can look into your eyes again. I _beg_ him.”

There were tears running down his _neck_ now. “I beg to have you back. I see you in the van, and on my couch, and when I cuff a suspect, or glance over at the passenger seat in the car.”

“Separation anxiety,” Neal choked out. “It’s a sad, sad thing.”

Peter gulped. “You wanna hear maudlin? I choked up over your tracking anklet in the hospital. And I asked to have it back when ERT and the courts are done with it.”

Neal gave up his own battle against tears. Peter could feel one actually drip off his own _chin_. Neal sniffed. “When I feel it gone from my leg, which is a lot, I miss it because I miss you. I’ve been known to just -- hold my ankle. It’s actually hard to get to sleep without it.”

“Neal.” Peter risked letting go of him just enough to pat him on the back, and feel the warmth of his body and the living, tactile strength of it. He was still desperately afraid this was a dream, or a trick, or one of those stories about a dead friend visiting from the afterlife.

He was afraid that this living Neal would vanish, leaving him back in a world where Neal had lain murdered in a body bag.

“I _love_ you, Neal.” So afraid that he had to say that, in case it was his only chance.

“Peter?” Peter responded to the question in Neal’s voice by looking at him, and Neal’s own face was a flood zone. “You really - care this much?” It wasn’t really a question. He’d learned the answer, and was floored by it. He was biting his lips together, trying not to lose it completely. And by the tears and the way those lips trembled, failing.

Peter’s chest convulsed in a violent sob, a wrenching intake of breath. “Neal.” He took a minute to regain the ability to speak. “It was so hard -- and hurt so bad -- to believe you were really gone. Now ....I’m afraid I’ll close my eyes and you won’t really be there when I open ‘em again.”

Neal hugged him, and patted him on the back. “Close your eyes, Peter.”

Peter tried, and ended up just clinging to him even harder. “I can’t. This is - the dream everyone has when someone they love dies, and it never comes true.”

Neal spoke for the first time, and it was obvious he was crying too. “I’ve missed you.” His grip suddenly tightened, crushing Peter against him. “I was going to stay away until it was safe.”

Peter grabbed him, hard, by the hair on the back of the neck and tightened his fingers as Neal’s face screwed up in pain and he finally cried out, but Neal’s head went towards Peter instead of pulling away. Barely conscious of what he was doing, Peter twisted his grip and Neal howled into his shoulder, still holding Peter tight.

“I don’t care if we all three go into WitSec,” said Peter. He finally got enough of a grip on his emotions to recognize Neal’s low, howling cries as physical pain, and then realized he was causing it. He loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. He felt like he could never let go, he had to cling to Neal because his life was on the line, and if he let his grip slip this would turn into nothing but a dream here to torture him. He had _Neal_ and he wasn't letting go. “You little _bastard_. As long as El and you are alive and well, that’s all that matters. We’ll face _anything_ and do anything _together_.”

Peter tightened his fist again, just a little, and Neal whimpered. He didn’t want to show his face, just stayed glued to Peter.

“How could you?” Peter pulled Neal’s head back and forced eye contact. Neal's blue eyes were wet with tears, and he was staring at Peter with a sort of fierce love that was almost childlike in its desperation.

Neal’s face seemed to quiver. “Because -- I know the love you hold in your heart, and as much as I care about El, I can’t even -- I’d rather die for real than risk putting you through that loss. Because --” Neal looked down, biting his lip. “You’re always talking about worrying about me in the field. Maybe - I’m too scared to show it, or I just think of you as invincible, but I never worried about you. But when this came around I thought for about one second how it would feel if the Panthers -- if I found you --

Neal couldn’t even continue, couldn’t say the word. “There was no risking that. None.”

Peter let go and stroked the back of Neal’s head, trying to erase the pain he'd caused this precious person he'd sworn over and over he'd give anything to have back, tidying his hair and savoring the alive, real warmth and texture under his fingers. “Killing one member of my family's no kinder than killing the other. While we’re all still here on this earth, we’re here together, hear me?”

Neal’s eyes flooded with tears again, and he nodded, and they held each other and sobbed in relief.


End file.
